Opinion & Comment

Beaver trapper, unpaid lobbyist Eric Shipman champions outdoor access

APPALACHIAN NOTEBOOK - Steve Oden

One Appalachian outdoorsman believes the right to hunt might be less at risk from anti-gun advocates but more threatened by shrinking public access to wild lands.

Wearing his trademark necklace of wild turkey gobbler spurs and dressed in camouflage, white-bearded Eric Shipman can be found most days behind the counter of his business, Lakeview Groceries and Sporting Goods, on the shores of Jackson Lake.

His is an eclectic store inventory of food items, sundries, hunting and fishing supplies, movie rentals, and hardware. Although you might stop in anytime for a loaf of bread or lottery ticket, it is during hunting and fishing seasons that Shipman’s store, with its racks of guns, game calls, ammunition, and tackle, becomes outdoor central for anglers, archers, and gunners.

Shipman holds court, while he sells merchandise and doles out advice and tips. What makes his sporting goods store different, however, is that along with a lake fishing report or information about whether the whitetail deer are rutting, you will learn that Shipman, a former trapper and still an avid wild turkey hunter, is also passionate about wildlife and conservation causes.

In particular, Shipman is concerned that the tradition of hunting rights and access to public land is under political and economic assault. All too few outdoor enthusiasts take the threats seriously that Shipman sees looming.

“Folks take things for granted. I did, too, up until 1977,” he confessed.

Shipman’s careers have been varied, from merchant to law officer. But regardless of how his regular paycheck was derived, he spent decades as a trapper of fur-bearing animals. This amounted to having two full-time jobs, because trapping is a labor and time intensive activity.

Shipman was good at it, especially when it came to trapping pesky dam-builders.

Beaver trapping was -- and still is -- a skill in high demand. Timber companies, highway departments, farmers, and government agencies contract with trappers to remove the critters, seeking to reduce flood damage and road closures caused by blocked streams.

His talent and reputation as a beaver trapper took Shipman to South Alabama, where he plied his trade in the Monroeville area. It was there and in Mississippi that he first saw the effects of hunting leases on public access.

Farmers, landowners, and timber companies leased vast acreage to duck and deer hunting clubs. The lease clubs had limited membership, and it was expensive to join; but the clubs controlled prime habitat areas.

“I’d trap beavers for them after hunting season ended. I didn’t realize it at the time, but what I was seeing with those big hunting leases was something that would spread across the country,” he said.

Indeed, lease hunting proliferated through the 1980s-1990s, as did the purchase of private parcels by paper and timber companies across the South and the Appalachian Region. Large amounts of land began to be locked up by leases, a way for corporate owners to maximize income or offset taxes.

Then, a watershed event occurred for Shipman. In 1977, an effort to outlaw leg-hold traps started in Ohio. Already a member of various trapping organizations, Shipman threw himself into a legislative battle that would be decided by a statewide ballot. With help from the Wildlife Legislative Fund, trappers and hunting rights proponents mounted an educational and political campaign.

Shipman was in the thick of the fight, but he never thought of anything but victory.

“The day of the election, my wife, Jane, asked me, ‘What will you do if we lose?’ I had never thought about losing until right then.”

They didn’t lose. Voters by 67 percent chose in favor of leg-hold traps. Shipman and his fellow campaigners celebrated, but it was personally a sobering moment for him.

“I came close to losing my right to trap, and that’s when I decided to start giving back. As a trapper, hunter, and fisherman, I had always taken from nature. I wanted to do something to put back,” he said.

He became a local leader in the National Wild Turkey Federation, helping raise money for restoration of North America’s largest game bird. He also became a self-appointed watch dog on issues affecting conservation and natural resources.

Perhaps most important are Shipman’s contacts across nation. When people have concerns involving conservation or laws affecting the outdoors, sooner or later they get around to hearing about – or from -- Eric Shipman, an unpaid lobbyist for sportsmen’s rights.

“Hunting might not be for everyone,” he said, “but other people ought not to try and stop us from doing what we love.”

He laughed, “I kind of tell it like it is… Maybe, it’s not the best or most ‘politic’ way, but I feel that if we are in the right, people ought to be on our side! When I squall, I hope it has some effect.”

Remembering back to his beaver trapping days in the South, Shipman sees the possibility of hunting becoming a sport for the rich and elite: those who can afford lease club memberships or who own large tracts of land.

“Getting control of more land for public use is important,” he added, explaining that he supports efforts to enlarge wildlife management areas and create new ones.

“There’s a lot of land available right now” that would create new opportunities for sportsmen and outdoor enthusiasts, according to Shipman. The problem is money with which to add to state land holdings.

“We need to find ways of funding land acquisition for this generation and future generations,” he said. “Before long, if you don’t own land or lease it, you will be shut out. When this happens, where will we take our kids and grandkids hunting?”